Sweet Poison
by H-Argo
Summary: The Moot is finally gathering to name the high king or queen of skyrim. Will those assembled put aside petty bickering to prepare for greater challenges left to come?
1. Feral Grace

The gathering for the moot to choose high king was a maelstrom of activity. There had been a vote cast by courier to the jarl of each hold and it surprised everyone to learn that it was to be held on the fringes of whiterun. It made good common sense for its central location but with the city not able to support the number of people wishing to attend a settlement of tents had arisen on the borders to encircle the towering gray walls like a festive skirt.

Body guards in abundance attended each ruler in profusion save one Ulfric Stormcloack stood tall and proud with only a single protector if it could be called that they were speaking in low tones as close friends would. Even if it were not for the eye catching armor and weaponry none could mistake the other traits of the short woman, the dragonborn was a fixture that had traveled extensively throughout all the holds. Already there were whispers in the swelling crowd and citizens peeping out of tents as they passed.

Denizens of the city had come to welcome her home, before the conflict had erupted this had been her first home after all in the sense that she owned a residence. As the representative of solitude Jarl Elisef's retinue had a prime location across the stream closest to the gate leading into the city. She stood watching the same as the others; she remembered her first encounter with both of them. She tried to keep her bitterness to herself in a mask of impassivity but it didn't stop unkind feelings from passing through her mind. _'Surely there is no justice'_.

As if she had whispered that thought directly into her ear the dragonborn turned and made direct knowing eye contact. She murmured a protective spell around ulfric and began a casual stride in the young queens' direction. Elisef wished the earth would open up and swallow her.

Sniffing lightly the expression on the intimidating female was downright inquisitive "What plants are in your perfume? I think I smell nirnroot, and deathbell"

Of all the things to ask what a strange thing, the young jarl was completely at a loss for words and just looked at her in confusion. Dumbly reaching into her sleeve she withdrew a decorative vial folded into her scarf and held it out in offering. With an eager eye and nose her visitor examined all that she could and even went as far as to dab her tongue over the lightly purple liquid. She enthusiastically listed the ingredients she perceived and allowed herself a final whiff before handing it back reluctantly.

The dragonborn smirked slyly "Ah, you're more clever than I gave you credit for, smells pretty and it builds up poison immunity."

The shock must have shown, telling her inquisitor that she in fact had not been clever and not aware that her fragrance was potentially dangerous. Thankfully those in the surrounding area were much more impressed by her alleged intelligence and were already too busy thinking of who to pass on this juicy gossip to first to notice the look that had danced on her features. Ulfric had come over in impatience and made a gesture to his companion to tie up the little encounter. With a nonchalant shrug she turned to follow but not before subtly delivering a charming wink mouthing 'be careful'.

Once they were in the privacy of breezehome and the housecarl had been sent off Ulfric took a seat and looked at his friend curiously "What are you playing at woman?"

"I trust the strength of your sword arm, and thu'um just fine, but I'd thank you to either figure it out on your own or leave it be for now." She cheekily retorted, dropping her pack with a mild thud and crouched to get the embers burning for the fire. Seeing her crouching in the ashes like a peasant ulfric frowned slightly. She should be in a much finer home with servants to take care of menial tasks like these.

"You could have had your servant attend that before you sent her away" he groused

She made a dismissive gesture at his tone before responding "As a housecarl the only thing I expect of her is that this place is not a pig sty, robbed blind, or burned to the ground while I am away. If I am here I expect her to go to her family in Riverwood"

"What sense does that make at all? Her duty is to serve and protect." He pushed

"I like my privacy and I can't very well expect her to be any match for the dark brotherhood or any other formidable enemies. It's much easier for me to keep myself safe than to look after someone else"

"So you are saying that I am also a burden on your home?"

"Now, now don't be difficult." She fished a flask out of her pack and handed it to him he unstopped the cork and sampled the aroma and found it to be cyrodilic brandy "I think we've little to worry about at the moment the majority of those here praise you as living legend"

"Me?" he scoffed "and what of you dragonborn stormblade, thane of whiterun?"

"Rather a mouthful of a title isn't it M'lord? You should give me a another name something that rolls off the tongue and has a pleasant sound and meaning something simple and fitting"

Ulfric took a drink of the potent liquor and passed it back with a smile "That's a tall order with all your mismatched reputations, why ask for a name and not take one?"

"Names are meant to be given by kin. You don't have a mind of disowning me now do you?" She took a swig herself and began setting about for things to toss into the stew pot carefully examining and sniffing each ingredient for purposes known only to her before adding to the concoction.

"Ha! Now who is being difficult? Give me a moment such an important thing shouldn't just be tossed about lightly" He slouched into the thin cushion of the chair and began in a low voice to recite words and sounds of the old language. The timbre was barely more than a whisper but it carried a musical lilt that had them both relaxing and it carried on for a long while as the young woman began moving things about the small home to her preferences. By the time he was able to start stringing together appropriate words the stew was already done and being served with a half loaf of bread. They ate in companionable silence and he was shocked to find the random assortment of foods quite pleasing to his palate. After they'd both eaten she ignored the chair in favor of sprawling on the floor in a more comfortable position.  
As they watched the fire sway and crackle he decided it had been enough time to put forth his attempts.

"Jun-Feyn?"

"Kings Bane? A bit inappropriate don't you think?"

"Drem'brii?"

She pondered it a moment then shook her head. "Doesn't fit my looks or my personality"

"Kest'in? Just a jest that wouldn't work at all"

She snorted in amusement "That would be an awkward introduction to plow the person over like a rampaging mammoth; no thu'um words"

"It's good I saved the best for last then Fel-dun"

Her eyes sparked in interest "That will do just fine I think. Fel-dun stormblade of whiterun" she tested out the words savoring the feel of the designation.

He hummed pensively "Why not Fel-dun stormblade of wildhelm?"

"The reasons are too long for the telling this eve, I intend to lay traps on the windows and doors before we sleep" she fished a small inscribed stone put of her pocket threaded with a leather chord and she handed it expectantly to him.

He took it eying it thoroughly before winding it securely around his wrist and tucking it neatly into the bracer. "What is it exactly?"

"To keep you safe, you don't need to know anything other than that" With that parting remark she began warding all openings to the building and pointed him in the direction of the master bedroom and taking the smaller one for herself.


	2. Breeze

Breezehome was aptly named, the thin boards let in every shriek and gust of wind blowing down the plain from the mountains. A tent made of good leather with a brazier at the center would have been warmer and less noisy. The benefit was that it was a little easier to feel safe in a home that had been thoroughly ensorcelled by protective wards. Mindful of the warning he had received the night prior he was especially careful of not getting too close to any wall or window if he could help it. In the pale gray dawn he rose from uneasy slumber stiff, cold, and mildly irritable not entirely out of character for the bear of eastmarch.

There was a low thrum in the house that made him think about the low chanted prayers offered to kynareth in an uninterrupted stream at the throat of the world. Wrapping himself in the hide he'd used as a blanket he cautiously made his way across the hall to see Fel-dun sitting Indian style amidst a painted circle of glyphs and candles. It would not have been unusual, had she been clothed.

"What in ysgmirs name are you doing?" he exclaimed turning to stop from staring at the eyeful in front of him.

She continued her prayers with no intention of answering until the morning mist was burned out of the air by the rising sun. The mortification in this was his alone; she seemed entirely indifferent to her state of nudity and his proximity. The sum and part of her focus was the unwavering tribute of the voice to the goddess. He shook his head and made his way downstairs to partake of the leftover bread and cold stew.

* * *

When she finally came down she was garbed in quilted robes and had a serene look in her eye as if completely detached from all worldly things. Ulfric wondered mildly when the last time he had prayed had been and if ever he wore that same expression before his soul had been stained with the rage and hate of war. Her mild vague smile was he felt somehow taunting, but he usually felt that she poked fun at everything even herself.

"You did not seem to recognize meditation this morning. I was under the impression that you studied at High Hrothgar."

"I did but I don't seem to recall, doing it without a stitch on."

She chuckled softly at this, behind it was the echo of wild things that her soul had consumed over the course of the past two years but her face never betrayed any inkling if she'd heard or felt it.

"It helps to see the world with eyes unclouded by hate"

* * *

He contemplated those words throughout the rest of the day as formalities wore on, and especially when he set eyes on the young woman he had made a widow. She glanced up and caught his gaze and after the initial shock he was surprised that her eyes held no animosity just a resigned sorrow hiding behind painfully polite neutrality. He turned away first pretending it hadn't happened. Still his mind was disquieted with a haunting sense of guilt.

Fel-dun left his side early on to scope out the crowd and returned at intervals speaking in the old language to update him on the latest news, to his chagrin he had trouble understanding what she was trying to impart more than not. It was a simplistic language that was direct but the lack of details in a statement was occasionally confusing if not downright baffling. It didn't help that when she got excited her speech accelerated to something nearing gibberish to his ears.

Some of her information was good and useful, while other tidbits were surprisingly frivolous. Seeing his confusion tinged with agitation she sighed and shrugged "Evenaar bahlok, There are many hungers it is better to delay than to feed." muttering a term of apology she did not speak much the remainder of the day but continued collecting rumors and verbal exchanges to mull over later.

* * *

Later in the evening away for the most part from prying ears she caught him gazing after elisif again "Her only crime is the tenderness of youth"

He scoffed and looked away folding his arms over his chest and slouching into his seat. "It makes for an unfit leader"

"Did she ask to lead? She has been a pawn of fate the entirety of a short bitter life that had for only an instant a taste of hope and love that she now pines for in loneliness and despair while trying to fend off negative opinions of her fellow countrymen and grasping political plays by unscrupulous nobles."

Ulfric gazed into the fire rather than meet his friends' eye "Why do you defend her?"

"Understanding that the world is not fair, and accepting it is two entirely different things. Krosis. As a man comprehending that may be beyond your abilities." The expression masking her features was rueful. He was more surprised than offended by the statement due in part to the fact her actions, and manner of speaking often lulled him into overlooking her gender to the point of forgetting. Regardless it gave him more things to think about than what speeches he would make and what changes to set in motion he would begin post-election whether he was voted high king or not.

With a dismissive wave she huffed a laugh "What an easy trap to fall into… enough of talk like that somebody get me a drink! You there! Bard! Come sing me something cheerful! No, not that ragnar the red crap! Something new!"

The rest of the evening was spent inventing bawdy limericks; she had a quick wit to create the rhyme but a terrible singing voice. It became a source of merriment among the blue and yellow banner of the windhelm camp, and she audaciously added to the mockery of all present till laughter overtook dark thoughts and lifted the spirits in a most pleasing fashion. The cyrodillac brandy she had spiked the mead with might have had something to do with it, but no one seemed to notice.


	3. Freedom to gather

Ulfric dozed in the early hours slouched against the log that served as seating and tucked neatly in his cloak. As he stirred and blearily opened his eyes he noticed that at some point the poles of the tent had been moved forward from its original place to house all the participants of the night's revelries in their drunken slumber. Fel-dun was not among them.

Forcing down the sensations of what was sure to be the start of a vicious hangover; he rolled to his feet and exited into the gray light of dawn. He let his feet pick the direction more so than his mind as he mentally tried to organize what the day would bring. By the time the sun began painting the sky in brilliant saffron hues he found himself at the river.

She was there in the water and for once had the decency to be wearing undergarments as she splashed and scrubbed with a handful of lavender sprigs. He called a greeting and she offered an offhand wave slogging out of the current for the pebbled beach.

"You'll catch your death of cold," he grumbled amicably

She shrugged with a soft smirk "You sound like a nagging fish mongers wife, besides what's worse cold or disease?"

"Such nonsense every warrior knows disease is carried in the bite of wild beasts" he arched a brow in challenge waiting her response.

"No, warriors only know what they want to know and look no further. How many healing tents have you been in? I've known many and known scores that might not have lost limbs or lives if only they had been clean." She stretched basking in the weak rays of sun as it climbed through the sky, before beginning the process of wringing water from her hair.

He weighed her response and made a point of remembering to reexamine it at a later date. "How is it you know all these things?"

"I learned all that I have part in accident, direct experience, and indirect experience. There are many things I wish I didn't know, your scent included" she retorted wryly pinching her nose in good natured mockery. "Your soldiers are much the same. it will be a wonder if they can find wives willing to endure the stench. They have no fear of death, yet balk at cold water and soap."

Eyeing her gamely he removed his layers and with a deep set frown tore a large handful of lavender from a nearby bush and plunged into the water. He'd been in colder streams but he was having a hard time remembering them as the waters icy touch pierced his skin with shocking clarity.

His exclamation at first contact had her laughing so hard she doubled over bracing her hands on her knees. With an irritated glare he clenched his chattering teeth and attacked the cleaning process with ruthless efficiency until he emerged scoured pink and freezing.

Trying to choke back her mirth she hailed his approach "Oh brave lord, for your valiant efforts allow me to ease your suffering"

His eyes widened minutely as he saw the beginnings of a basic fire spell; he raised his hand in alarm "Hey! Watch the magic!"

This seemed to amuse her anew and after she got control of herself she managed to chuckle "As you wish, I won't point it your direction" with that consolatory statement she cast it for herself to dry her bindings and drive any lingering chill from her skin.

He cast a jealous glance as she began dressing and resolutely ignored the last trace of radiating warmth hoping to Talos that his own undergarments would dry quickly.

"If you don't dry it will chafe all day" she lightly offered.

Considering the balance of practicality and the real possibility of mage fire burns to delicate areas he hummed noncommittally, "Mind your aim,"

Something sparked in her eyes underneath her humor but she didn't comment on the doubtful tone or the phrasing that sounded like a command. There were more pertinent matters to think about and she finished her task quickly so that they could return to camp.

"You're not going to wear one of your masks today," He inquired mildly

"It wouldn't do; people could say later that you had an impersonator stand at your side. Though I imagine Galmar envies my place here" She smirked at the thought of the bear skin clad brute pacing with a worried scowl.

Ulfric inclined his head in agreement "True, but he is the only one I can trust with the care of my hold while I am away."

"I've no ear or inclinations to sitting about in an audience chamber all day, I fail to understand how he, and you for that matter, can endure it" she yawned for affect covering it with the back of her hand.

"Then today's events will have you weeping in boredom," He smiled confidently for having identified a flaw in his comrade.

"Not so, everything is being held outside around lots of people with their attention focused all on a few. I'll need sharp ears and eyes for silent killers" as if reminded of her duty she began furtively assessing those they passed. It didn't set her at ease at all that as they moved through the area a procession gathered in front and behind as they walked.

"This is a sacred gathering, only a skulking honor less coward would stoop so low," He made the comment eyeing a group of foreigners mildly appeased that none were high elf.

"Unfortunately, different people have different opinions on what is holy. On who are traitors and who are the patriots of Skyrim" She murmured softly

"Then they should be expelled!" he declared

"Or you need to gain a better understanding of the cultures of other lands to know better ways of dealing with them. Or appoint advisors and jarls that can do it in your stead. If skyrim is to survive the coming conflicts I'd urge you to take this seriously. Many of the Jarls I've met on either side of the conflict were, and are, corrupt, selfish, or fools; Sometimes all three at once."

"Perhaps you'd like to cast yourself in to be voted for then" he quipped acidly

She stopped and looked him hard in the eye "I supported your cause because I felt it just, I have not and do not desire to rule anything but myself. Do you wish to be rid of my aid and counsel?"

He met her gaze unflinchingly "Of course not. Who do you recommend? I will consider them"

She nodded as if the brief moment of tension had not happened, "We might have bought ourselves a reprieve with the civil war over, but we need to become unified; not squander the chance for reform. Swords can't rebuild buildings, feed hungry people, or correct years of prejudice as Brunwulf-Free winter has pointed out before. If you take the throne in solitude I recommend him for governing winterhold. Galmar is a fine warrior but he needs your guidance and should attend you in the capitol."

"If I were to take Solitude, what of Elisef? She is still by right a Jarl and is likely to loathe leaving her city as I am mine. Few nobles are fond of travel and less would be willing to relocate. This won't be as simple as moving pieces on a game board."

"It is because they do nothing but sit on their Thrones. They are blind and deaf to the needs of the people and the ways of the world. I never said it would be easy, but the alternative of doing nothing is by far worse."

The lordling was becoming frustrated with the weighty confrontation of so many future concerns. "It is my duty to worry about these things, but what of you? What is it that you want?"

"To be able to gather herbs in the woods without being picked up by soldiers that want to execute a hedge alchemist for being at the wrong place at the wrong time; and I want it to stay that way for several generations." She snippily rejoined stalking through the crowd with a deceptively blank expression.

She had never mentioned the reason she had fought before and he had never asked. He was temporarily humbled into silence at the thought, and they continued towards the pavilion where the opening speeches and nominations would be held.

At the steps he clapped a hand to her shoulder giving a reassuring squeeze "Things will get better" as he made the promise he wasn't sure if he was telling her or himself. She merely smiled with a touch of optimism backed by determination. Both ascended to face their peers and what the day would bring.


End file.
